All I See Is Red (Draco/Ginny)
by VanDerGirl
Summary: A Draco/Ginny fic, I'm terrible at summaries, just R/R. Come on, you know you want to. It's finished, finally. HURRAH!
1. All I See Is Red

All I See Is Red A/N: This is a Harry Potter Draco/Ginny fic, if you don't like the two of them together...well, read it anyway! If you're a Draco fan, read it, and if you're a Ginny fan, read it. If you're not a fan of either, read it.   
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Really.   
  
I know she'll be there. Sitting at the same table, with the same people. The fiery cloud of red hair is like a huge sign saying "I'm here! Come and get me!"   
  
And I long to try and get her. But to no avail.   
  
I am hated by many at Hogwarts. Raised by my evil Death Eater father to be a Death Eater when the need arises, I've been taught to hate all except for purebloods, to look down upon those of no wizard blood.   
  
No wonder I'm in Slytherin.   
  
I was never the best student - Hermione Granger took that title from me. She studies incessantly, through holidays and school days alike. Never ceasing, never failing. A subject which my father finds laughable, that a bushyhaired girl of no wizards blood could beat his pureblood son. He tosses me away as useless, a good for nothing boy.   
  
I curse him in my dreams sometimes, as I dream of that red hair, dreaming of touching it, stroking her face. Cursing my father for being who he is, a tool of Voldemort. For teaching me to hate, for teaching me to carry on with the family feud between the Weasleys and the Malfoys.   
  
He knows something's wrong with me. In my weekly owls to my family, my handwriting is no longer neat, with each letter carefully penned to compliment the entire word. The thought of red fills my mind, seeping through every crevasse in my mind. I cannot concentrate no longer, the color of her hair takes over me. Thus, my handwriting suffers.   
  
Perhaps this is some sort of punishment. Perhaps I am not meant to love a Weasley. We are entirely different, she and I.   
  
She hates me.   
  
I don't deny that I deserve it. All the things that I, my father, and my family's presence on the Ministry of Magic have done to her, her brother, and her family have been enough. I am self confident, cocky, arrogant, with a sneer permanently attached to my face. No one can make that laughing smile go away from me, it is imprinted into my soul. Perhaps I am meant to carry out this role for my father, I am meant to cause hell onto the Weasley family and help him to change the school of Hogwarts to how Salazar Slytherin intended it.   
  
A year ago, I gladly would have accepted my fate and dug deeper into the Dark Arts. Without mulling over whether this was the best choice for me. Without having second thoughts about what my father picks for me. Things have changed me. Changed mefor the better, I hope. I see and recognise this difference in me, how I act. No one else does, especially not Potter, Weasley, Granger, and the girl.   
  
Ginny Weasley.   
  
I see her all the time in my mind, the red hair falling over her face, slightly hiding her pretty features. As if I were not meant to see them. As if one look from me would mar them forever.   
  
I wonder what she thinks of me. Nothing good, I suspect. Her brother has taught her well. Taught her to hate me, as all good Weasleys should hate Malfoys.   
  
If this is my fate...   
  
So be it. 


	2. Ron's Little Sister

All I See Is Red A/N: This is a Harry Potter Draco/Ginny fic, if you don't like the two of them together...well, read it anyway! If you're a Draco fan, read it, and if you're a Ginny fan, read it. If you're not a fan of either, read it.   
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Really.   
  
They all think I'm pathetic, annoying. A sort of tagalong that they have to be nice to because I'm "Ron's Little Sister." I don't want to be known as that. I want to be Ginny Weasley. Is that so hard to ask?   
  
I have a crush on Harry Potter, the famous boy of Hogwarts. The boy that defeated Voldemort several times, and will do it again. In some terrifying moment of daring, I actually sent him a Valentine. Did he acknowledge it? Even a simple "thank you" would have appeased me.   
  
Not one word.   
  
Nothing at all.   
  
I'm just that girl that follows him around. A pain, a bother, I suppose. He likes Cho Chang, I know. My heart breaks to see him look at her, his eyes full of longing and sadness, for he knows (yet still dreams) that she will not look back.   
  
I know that look far too well.   
  
I see it in my own eyes.   
  
He will never return my look. Never. I know this to be true. I am just "Ron's Little Sister" to him.   
  
Ron's Little Sister.   
  
Why do I have a crush on Harry Potter? I honestly don't know. He's nothing special, besides being...well..Harry Potter. Is that why I like him? Because he's famous? Because his vast wealth could sustain my family for God knows how many years?   
  
I know he doesn't like me the way that I want him to. I know, believe me. There's just something about him that makes me want to be with him, have him protect me. Like he protected me in the Chamber of Secrets.   
  
I don't remember much of it. I don't remember much at all. All I saw was red, as my life force drifted out of me and into Tom Riddle. A red haze around my eyes, hypnotizing me, lulling me into a gentle sleep. I could still hear Riddle's voice in my head.   
  
"No one cares about you, Ginny. Give yourself to me."   
  
I hear those words in my dreams.   
  
No one cares about me.   
  
No one cares about me.   
  
Taunting me, because they seem so true and yet so false. Riddle still had a grip on me. He made me into an attention seeker, constantly worried that I would wake up and no one would notice.   
  
As though I were wearing Harry Potter's invisibility cloak.   
  
As though I did not exist.   
  
And I would hear them asking.   
  
"What happened to Ron's little sister?"   
  
Enough of that.   
  
I will make them notice me.   
  
And I will stop liking Harry Potter. 


	3. Apples and Strawberries

All I See Is Red   
  
She's there, again. I should hate her. She stands for everything that the name Malfoy hates. She is pure, will use magic for good causes, is sweet, innocent. She smiles at everyone that she meets while walking in the halls. They all smile back, knowing that this is Ginny Weasley. One must be nice when dealing with Ginny Weasley.   
  
One must not be rude, mean, blunt when talking to Ginny Weasley. One must not hurt her in any way, hurt the innocence nearly brimming from her sweet voice, the big brown eyes, the way she twirls a strand of red hair carelessly around a finger as she studies. She is entirely different than anyone that I know, anyone that I willingly associate with.   
  
So completely different.   
  
Different from me.   
  
She knows enough not to smile at me in the halls. She looks at me, looks at my pale face, my silvery blond hair, my calculating gray eyes, and looks away. Not one word is exchanged between us unless I start it, in order to hear a word, any word come out from between those red lips of hers.   
  
I insult her, mock her, berate her.   
  
It is the only way that I know how to show my affection for her.   
  
She takes it in a completely different way than I want her to.   
  
I frighten her.   
  
She always hangs around Potter, Granger, and her brothers. I never see her with any other witch or wizard her own age. I am sure that it is not that she doesn't fit in, but that she does not want to.   
  
She yearns for the Potter boy. I watch her, I see the looks she gives him. The looks that he does not return. He is even more foolish than I believed him to be. This beautiful girl is near him always, asking silently with her eyes for his affection, to know that he cares about her.   
  
He cares about her, that's certain. He saved her from the Chamber of Secrets, after all. But he does not care for her in the way that she wishes him to.   
  
He is just a friend to her.   
  
Perhaps...   
  
There is a chance for me.   
  
I am not hungry.   
  
Fruit salad was served for breakfast today.   
  
Strawberries, plump and juicy.   
  
Red.   
  
The color of her hair.   
  
The color of her lips.   
  
I get up abruptly and leave the hall.   
  
I have no appetite. 


	4. I'm Not That Innocent

I'm Not That Innocent I am smothered. Smothered to a growing hysteria of paranoia. One move and Ron will unleash his furious temper, telling me about how I should stay out of trouble.   
  
Don't do this.   
  
Don't do that.   
  
Don't be annoying.   
  
Study for your O.W.Ls.   
  
He's spending too much time with Hermione.   
  
Why did I have to be the youngest? Why did I have to be the only girl in the family? My mother acts as though she expects me to have no brain, expects me to do foolish things if my whole entire family wasn't watching.   
  
I have a brain, mum.   
  
I can use it.   
  
I'm not as dumb as I look.   
  
We all have our labels in my family. Bill and Charlie are the smart and funny Weasleys. Percy's the smart Weasley. Fred and George....are Fred and George. Ron's the tempermental Weasley. And I?   
  
Many words come to mind.   
  
Innocent.   
  
Timid.   
  
Sweet.   
  
I hear them all the time.   
  
Conversations stop when I sit down, with a hasty glance at me and a quick change of the subject. I can't help feeling as though they feel that I'm too young for them, that I'm simply a nuisance.   
  
Practically the whole of Gryffindor watches over me. It gets annoying. I DO have the ability to think for myself.   
  
"See that girl? She's the one, the one that got taken into the Chamber."   
  
I'm supposed to be mentally damaged by being taken over You-Know-Who's 15 year old self, traumatised from having him suck out most of my life force and bringing it into his body so he could rise again.   
  
I'm not.   
  
Leave me alone.   
  
None of that would have happened if Lucius Malfoy hadn't slipped Riddle/You-Know-Who's diary into my cauldron. I trusted Riddle. I was innocent back then.   
  
Not anymore. 


	5. You Ignite Me

You Ignite Me Another day.   
  
Another day at the Slytherin Table, surrounded by my so called "friends".   
  
They aren't my friends.   
  
Crabbe and Goyle are just...there. They follow me around, they protect me. I'm grateful to them for that. But I can take care of myself.   
  
Pansy Parkinson? She looks like a pug, for god's sake. Her family's got connections with the Dark Lord, just like mine, which is the only reason why I had to take her to that damn Yule Ball.   
  
I'd give anything to not be in Slytherin. The only reason that I'm here is my father told me very politely that if I didn't follow the Family tradition and get into Slytherin, he'd personally turn me over to the Dark Lord.   
  
Not something I'd want to experience.   
  
Thank you, father.   
  
You show touching concern.   
  
Hogsmeade Weekend, according to Dumbledore.   
  
I don't really think he's that bad. He's very gifted, I must say.   
  
Damn you, father, for having spies even in Hogwarts to keep an eye on me.   
  
Nice to know I can't speak my own thoughts, I have to conform to yours.   
  
Breakfast is over.   
  
I had an apple.   
  
Not much else looked appetizing to me.   
  
It was red.   
  
Like her.   
  
Automatically, my eyes look over the Gryffindor table, searching for her.   
  
There she is.   
  
Her red hair pulled back, with a few strands in front of her face.   
  
Talking to her brother.   
  
His back is towards me. She looks past him and our eyes meet.   
  
A jolt passes through me.   
  
I feel my face flush, my pale skin turning a slight reddish color.   
  
Red...just like her hair.   
  
Just like her lips.   
  
Neither of us looks away.   
  
Ever hear that Muggle saying, "Eyes are the windows to the soul?"   
  
That Muggle is a very smart man.   
  
In those few seconds I could sense all that she was feeling.   
  
Her anger towards her mother for not trusting her.   
  
Her exasperation towards her brother for constantly watching her, to make sure she didn't spontaneously self combust or anything.   
  
Her love for Harry, and her anger at herself for still loving Harry.   
  
I thought she would look away.   
  
She didn't. 


	6. Blinded By You

Blinded By You A/N: There's not much to say from Ginny's POV cause I like the way I ended her part so this is a DOUBLE BONUS! Two parts in one! HURRAH!   
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
Eye contact with Draco Malfoy.   
  
Something I never thought I would ever have.   
  
Something I thought I would never want to have.   
  
Invisible sparks fly as we look at each other.   
  
I see so many things...so many things that I would never expect in my enemy.   
  
Is he my enemy?   
  
I sense...a hatred of his father, a hatred for the name he longs to get rid of.   
  
A longing for something that I cannot perceive.   
  
Any other time I would look away.   
  
But this fascinates me and intrigues me.   
  
His eyes...there's so much in them.   
  
I cannot explain it in words...   
  
I turn away finally, closing my eyes.   
  
Colors play in front of me, enticing me, seducing me.   
  
Pale blue.   
  
Dark brown.   
  
Silver blond.   
  
Fiery red.   
  
  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
  
  
Hogsmeade.   
  
It's a wonderful city, really.   
  
I could just sit down on a bench and spend hours Witch Watching.   
  
But there is only one that appeals to me...   
  
Oh, shit.   
  
It's definitely not Pansy Parkinson.   
  
Ohhhh, shit.   
  
"Hello, Drakie."   
  
I'm scared...I'm scared...I want Mr. Puffer, my stuffed Puffskien, to hug.   
  
"Hey! Come back here!''   
  
Never. Neeeeever.   
  
I'm grateful for that nice growth spurt I had over the summer, before I started my 5th year. No more shortness for me. Nope. And I started a nice running program..just the thing I need to escape the Pansy Pug.   
  
I am one damn fine 15 year old.   
  
Woah.   
  
OOMPH.   
  
Ow, shit, that hurt.   
  
I get up, brushing some dirt off of my robes.   
  
"Watch where you're going, dammit."   
  
She looks up at me.   
  
Ginny. 


	7. Chemistry

Chemistry A/N: Blah, there's nothing else to do, so I'll just update AGAIN!   
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
Draco.   
  
I stand up slowly, shaking my robes slightly to clean them.   
  
"Oh, look what we have here, it's a Weasel...er, a Weasley."   
  
He's called me that before.   
  
Said those words to my brothers so many times...   
  
I see what I didn't see before.   
  
He hides behind icy blue eyes, a sneer.   
  
He isn't the tough Malfoy he makes himself out to be.   
  
He's weak, vulnerable.   
  
Am I the only one that knows?   
  
"I know you don't feel like that, Draco."   
  
Something in his eyes...   
  
When I first looked at him after he knocked me over, they were pale, almost lifeless.   
  
When I said that..and called him Draco...   
  
His eyes lit up, if only more than before.   
  
But it's a start.   
  
"Why are you calling me Draco? You hate me."   
  
His voice...something's different about it.   
  
It's not the drawling sneer I'm used to.   
  
This is...this is...completely different...   
  
But a good different.   
  
"I thought you hated me, Draco, and yet here we are having a semi-normal conversation."   
  
He shivers slightly.   
  
I look at him.   
  
Really look at him.   
  
He's changed. A lot.   
  
The way he looks at me...it's different too.   
  
His eyes are trying to convey something...   
  
"Oh, I hate you?"   
  
He takes a step closer.   
  
I'm the one to shiver this time.   
  
"That's what it's always seemed like to me."   
  
I think I'm going to lose it.   
  
He's so close, and yet so far...   
  
Everything that I imagined with Harry?   
  
Forget it.   
  
This is much better.   
  
"Well, how could I hate you? There are so many reasons not to."   
  
His voice...   
  
Low and murmuring.   
  
His eyes...   
  
Cool and glittering.   
  
His lips...   
  
"Why don't you tell me?"   
  
He takes another step.   
  
I back up slightly, scared of what might happen and yet anticipating at the same time.   
  
This is what I imagine, isn't it?   
  
Why be scared?   
  
It'll happen eventually.   
  
He's so close...   
  
"Well...first of all, your eyes are mesmerizing."   
  
He takes a step closer so that I'm backed against the wall.   
  
And liking it.   
  
"Second of all, you have the cutest nose I've ever seen."   
  
What? I have a cute nose?   
  
"Third of all, your hair...I can't describe it. It just has this power over me. A power that I _like._"   
  
I look up at him, trying to see if he means what he says.   
  
His eyes are the brightest and clearest that I've ever seen them.   
  
He's either a really excellent liar, or he means it.   
  
Either way, it'll make for a fun Hogsmeade visit.   
  
He takes one more step, closing the distance.   
  
"And last...but not least..oh, definitely not least...your innocence turns me on."   
  
And with that, his arms are around me, and he's kissing me.   
  
His hands move from my waist to my hair, tangling themselves in it.   
  
I don't know how I imagined my first kiss...all I know is that this is different than what I expected it.   
  
Not that that's a bad thing.   
  
Fire, passion, longing, and then the satisfaction one gets when they acheive the thing they long for.   
  
It's all there.   
  
This is what I want.   
  
I don't want something tame, controlled, careful.   
  
I want this. 


	8. How You Remind Me

How You Remind Me Okay, people, this is the end. The end my friend, the end. This is the end, beautiful friend, the end.   
  
Anyway.   
  
Thanks to everyone thats' been reading and replying! You make my day when I see my mailbox full of emails from Fanfiction.Net.   
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
I feel as though I've found my niche.   
  
Like this is where I'm supposed to be.   
  
Like this is who I'm supposed to be, really.   
  
I look back on what I was before, and what I am now.   
  
I couldn't make it being the tagalong.   
  
I couldn't cut it as the pet of Gryffindor.   
  
Riddle may think that he owns me after the Chamber of Secrets, but I won't live like that.   
  
That was the old me.   
  
Part of me is still like that.   
  
But it's better somehow.   
  
Different.   
  
I know who I am.   
  
He reminds me of who I am.   
  
He's still got a mean edge.   
  
But I know it's not really him.   
  
He's so sorry everytime something escapes his mouth that he knows will hurt me.   
  
I like it that way.   
  
We understand each other.   
  
No one really does.   
  
They can't understand why we feel this way.   
  
But we do.   
  
And that's all that matters.   
  
Because..I don't think I'd be able to let go of him. 


End file.
